


Don't Fight It (The Ice King)

by 6YearsABrave



Category: Baseball RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: 2016, Alternate Universe, Atlanta Braves, Ice Powers, M/M, Washington Nationals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-22
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-07-16 12:51:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7268917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/6YearsABrave/pseuds/6YearsABrave
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gordon Beckham has a secret - a terrible, debilitating secret.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Fight It (The Ice King)

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Disney's Frozen. Courtesy of my imagination.

The ball was batted straight up the middle, and Gordon Beckham lurched for it. He was quite a ways away, but he was a talented second baseman, and reached it just in the nick of time.

Gloving it, he flung it upward. He knew that his shortstop, Chase d’Arnaud, would be there at the bag, waiting. He always was. He couldn’t say that about the shortstops he’d worked with in the past. He wouldn’t have admitted it out loud, but Chase was probably the most talented defensive shortstop he’d ever worked with, majors or minors.

Chase, gliding like a bird, seemed to fly across the second base bag and sent the baseball sailing off to first. It was a typical double play for them, and it got them out of this particular tough inning. 

Chase patted Gordon on the back on the way to the dugout. Gordon wanted to pat him back, but he knew he couldn’t. The shortstop glanced over at Gordon, accustomed to having none of his affection returned. He gave Gordon a small, perseverant smile and went down the steps ahead of him. 

 

Ever since Gordon could remember, he hated himself.

It wasn’t because of anything he did; it wasn’t because of his looks; it was because of the thing that made him different from every other person in the world. Not his personality, either.

He hated his ice powers.

It was his emotions that triggered blasts of snow and ice in his vicinity. Fear was the most powerful, that he could tell so far. Since puberty they had only gotten stronger and harder to control. He wore warming gloves, sort of like an electric blanket made for his hands, all the time in public. That meant almost 24/7 during the baseball season.

Baseball was his refuge. As long as he wore the gloves he could be just like all the other players, and no one would bat an eye. He was talented, but his zeal for the game, to be like all the other normal, ice-power-less players, was off the charts. 

What he hated about the powers was they prevented him from being close to – well, pretty much anyone. Including teammates. Teammates he really liked and wanted to be close to.

Teammates like Chase d’Arnaud.

 

Gordon was in the shower by himself after the game, like he always did, behind a curtain with his gloves on the bench right by him. He hummed happily to himself. He kept the water running extra warm to prevent anything from unexpectedly going wrong. Steam filled the small space of the stall and for now, he was at peace. The team had won. He had done well in the field.

Suddenly the curtain was pulled back and a handsome, smiling face appeared.

“Dammit, Chase!” Gordon yelped, spinning around. His back and palms planted against the back of the stall, and when they did, a layer of ice formed there, crackling as it slowly spread.

“Sorry,” Chase stuttered. “I, uh…didn’t mean to scare you.”

Gordon’s eyes widened. He became enlightened to the presence of the ice on the wall. Luckily, it appeared there was too much steam in the stall for Chase to see it.   
Gordon breathed loudly. Chase had really come quietly. “Uh…” he stuttered, “S-sorry Chase, uh…I’ll be out in a minute.”

Chase had a disappointed but understanding look on his face. “I’m ready to shower now, though.” He had come closer, undressed, and brought a finger up around Gordon’s hairline, tracing it. “You, uh…mind if I join you?”

“Yeah,” Gordon said, his voice going up an octave. He couldn’t really feel the ice behind him melting much. “I’m done now.” He scampered past Chase, swept his gloves off the bench, and scrammed as quickly as he could. He never looked back at Chase, mostly because he knew his expression would probably break his heart. 

 

Gordon stood alone in his house in Atlanta, staring at himself in the mirror.

_What the hell, Gordon?_ A little voice inside him said. _Chase wants to make love to you! Don’t you want him?_

“Hell yes,” Gordon said out loud.

_Then what the hell?_

_Oh yeah – you’d probably coat the man with ice and kill him the instant you touched him._

“No,” Gordon said.

_…You know it’s true._

“No,” Gordon repeated. _“No!”_ He slammed his fists down on the countertop, and when he did, ice was splayed across it with a great crackle.

He jumped back. The little voice in his head told the truth. Deep down, _he_ knew the truth.

He shook his head, willing it to disappear, but it didn’t. Many things in his house were water-stained. 

But the thing that was most stained was his soul.

 

“Gordon,” Chase d’Arnaud called across the locker room. “You want to come with us?”

“Where?” 

“To TGI Friday’s,” he responded. He was at another locker, discussing something with a group of their other teammates. “It’s Flowers’ favorite place, and he’s taking the starters. But he’s also invited us!”

“I…don’t think I can, Chase,” Gordon said, in a more broken voice than he’d have liked.

Chase sensed Gordon’s regret. He left the others and came over to Gordon. “Gordon?” He asked, laying a hand gently on his shoulder. “Everything okay?”

Gordon sighed. Was he really that bad an actor? “Yeah,” he said. “Everything’s fine.”

“It doesn’t really sound like everything’s fine.” He slid his hand down, almost to Gordon’s hand. It was gloved, of course. “You can tell me, if you want.”

Gordon shook his head, exasperated. Here was Chase, begging him to tell him what was going on, the one thing in the world he wanted to do, and…  
“Sorry,” he said, almost in a whisper. “I…can’t really tell you.”

Chase cocked his head. “I promise I won’t tell anyone else.”

This was what really got Gordon. Nobody in the past had ever pushed him this far. Or at least, he’d been able to hide better. He just loved Chase so damn much.   
Why did he have to have ice powers _and_ the ability to love?

“Sorry,” he couldn’t stop shaking his head. He got up and promptly left the room.

 

“Hey, what was up with Gordon, by the way?” Tyler Flowers, their catcher, asked Chase once they were at TGI Friday’s. “You did ask him if he wanted to come?”

“That man,” Chase started, shaking his head. “I can’t figure him out. But I’m going to.” They ordered their drinks. “He seemed super regretful and sad and stuff. I begged him to tell me what was going on, but he just kept saying, ‘Sorry’ and left me with no explanation.” It saddened Chase, and the others could tell.

Mike Foltynewicz and Matt Wisler, who also sat at their table, shook their heads. “Man, I hope he’s okay,” Folty said.

“Me too,” Wisler added. “He’s a pretty good player.”

“That’s why we’re here to keep an eye on him,” Flowers said as their drinks were brought.

Chase stared at the ice swirling around in his drink as he stirred it. “I don’t know,” he said. “But I will.”

 

A month passed. The Braves weren’t doing very well on the field, and off it, things were starting to get tense. 

The Nationals were in Atlanta. The first game of the series was uneventful. AJ Pierzynski caught a good game, but the Braves still lost. The second game of the series, Tyler Flowers caught.

Flowers was a former National himself, and knew most of the guys in their lineup. Each of his former teammates had a word with him as they came up to the plate. He had caught up with some of them before the series began, but not with Jayson Werth. Jayson had been the closest of all to him. In fact, he hadn’t even seen Jayson at all in person.

“How’s it going?” Flowers asked him when he batted in the first inning.

Jayson smirked down at him, almost sneering. “Fine.”

“Jayson, I-”

“Can it, Flowers,” he snapped quietly so the umpire wouldn’t hear. “After the game, we can talk.”

“I was just asking-”

“Enough, okay?” Jayson motioned with his hands and bat. Folty was already ready to wind up.

Flowers shook his head, now extremely distracted as he gave the signs. All he had ever done as a National was watch out for his own health. Gordon Beckham and Chase d’Arnaud watched from the middle of the infield. 

 

It was later, after the game, when Jayson Werth finally showed up at the Braves’ clubhouse. He didn’t look happy, even though the Nationals had won the game.  
Flowers had been waiting for him, talking with Folty and Wisler, while Chase hung around with them. Gordon had been taking his usual shower alone. 

“Jayson,” Flowers started as he noticed him coming toward them.

Jayson motioned for the other three players that were there to hush, which shocked them. A visitor coming in and telling them what to do?

“Flowers,” Jayson started in a low voice. “I can’t deal with this.”

Flowers paused a moment. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to.”

“Flowers, what’s he talking about?” Wisler asked. “Is it because you were a…” He trailed off.

Jayson shoved past Flowers and came, threatening savagery in his eyes, toward the young starter. “He hasn’t told you?” He said with quiet rage.

Wisler, intimidated, shook his head. 

“No,” Folty put in. He took Wisler by the arm.

Jayson looked back to Flowers. He motioned to the two starters. “So this is your lot nowadays?”

Flowers shook his head. “No, Jayson, you don’t-”

“He was mine,” Jayson snarled at them. “Still is, deep down.”

“Why would he want to be with you?” Folty asked, not as frightened as Wisler was.

Jayson cocked his head and removed his gloves, tossing them to the floor. “He was fascinated by me once,” he said, looking at his hand as if it were a diamond. “And I think he still is.” Jayson snapped his fingers, grinning, and to everyone but Flowers’ surprise, a burning flame appeared above his hand, then went out.

He did it again as the others gaped. “That’s right,” he said. “Real, hot, burning, fire!” He punctuated it several times, snapping closer to Wisler’s face as the younger man retreated back against the wall. No one could take their eyes off Jayson’s hands, as if they were ticking bombs.

And in a way, they were. “They’re gonna burn you,” Jayson whispered, menacingly. A rabid look had crept into his eyes. “They’re gonna burn _you_ – unless…Mr. Flowers comes back to Washington for a little – shall we say – _friction_.” He rubbed his hands together, producing a bigger flame than before. He grinned.

Wisler and Folty pleaded with their eyes to Flowers, feeling beads of sweat run down their necks. But the older catcher stood his ground. “I am not going to be ordered around by you just because you’re different.”

Jayson wasn’t expecting that reply. He turned back around to face Wisler. Shoving Folty away, he snarled, “So be it.” He yanked Wisler around by the arm, slamming his face against the wall, and pulled at his pants. “This’ll make up for it.”

“No,” Folty said, gathering himself, but Jayson snapped his fingers before he could get closer. 

“This can become a fireball,” he said, “if you make it.”

“No,” Flowers said. “Jayson, you can’t do this!”

Wisler grunted in fear, totally helpless, as Jayson prepared to do him, right then and there. “I can and I have,” he said, getting up to Wisler and almost reaching his backside – 

When Chase d’Arnaud, who Jayson had hardly noticed at the other side of the room, darted forward. 

“No,” Chase yelped, yanking Jayson’s arm and pulling him back from Wisler.

Everyone else in the room winced. 

Jayson retaliated immediately – and very angrily. Kicking Wisler, he swiped his other hand across Chase’s face, igniting it with a bright flame. 

Chase immediately fell to the floor, unable to cry out. 

 

From the door to the showers Gordon watched it unfold until then. The battle in him raged like never before. His gloves were back on. 

If a monster like this had fire powers, what did that mean about him? If there were ever a time for him to use his power for good, this was it. _Besides – he’s killed Chase!_

He ran to Chase, cradling him in his arms. “Chase,” he whispered, fighting tears. “Chase!” His face was badly burned and his hands shook. Chase’s charred lips moved, but no sound came out. “Oh, Chase,” Gordon said, losing it suddenly. The tears dripped onto Chase’s cheeks. Gordon did not look at them. Despite Chase’s ruined lips, Gordon bent down and gently kissed them, figuring it would be the first and only time. 

They felt softer and smoother than ever, and – to Gordon’s surprise – cool.

Everyone else in the room suddenly gasped. Why was it so shocking that Gordon loved Chase? 

Gordon pulled back to look at Chase, and he also gasped – with happiness.

Chase was healing! Gordon had cooled Chase off with his lips and his skin was healed right before their eyes. Gordon’s ice had erased the effects of Jayson’s fire!

Chase grabbed Gordon, looking up at him with new, blue eyes and the most beautiful smile. 

“No,” Jayson stammered. “No, that’s – that’s not possible!”

Gordon regained his wits at the sound of Jayson’s mean voice. He gently let Chase sit up. “Look who’s talking,” Gordon said, facing the National. He took off his gloves and flung them to the floor. “You were saying?”

“Gordon-” Wisler grunted from between the wall and Jayson.

Jayson clapped him around the mouth, without burning him, but Gordon had had enough. He stepped forward, ice running through his veins now, and blasted Jayson with the full strength of his emotion.

“None of that goes on in my clubhouse.”

Jayson freaked out. Encased in an ice capsule on the floor, he slowly clenched his fingers and small flames started to melt it. Folty and Flowers ran to Wisler to fix him up and make sure he was alright. 

“Gordon,” Chase coughed as he smiled. “I knew there was something different about you.”

Gordon smiled back. “I know you knew,” he said triumphantly.

“And I knew you knew I knew.”

Gordon reached down and helped Chase stand up. “Let me deal with this monster.”

“I’ll stand back.”

The ice trapping Jayson finally cracked apart, creating a huge puddle on the floor. Wet, Jayson was much weaker than before.

Gordon walked up to him, looking down his nose. “Care to let yourself out before _I_ ice-rape _you_?”

“Ice-rape, hah,” Jayson sneered. “Good one.” He stood up. “No one is a match for me, freezer-boy.” He shook the water off his hands and twirled them around each other. A small ball of flame formed between them which grew in size each second.

Gordon reacted quickly and raised his palms. Above his head he created a huge ball of ice. As soon as Jayson’s fireball was as big as Gordon’s ice-ball they hurled them at each other with a giant crash that sent everyone else sprawling to the floor.

Gordon lunged at Jayson with his hands, sending a steady stream of ice and snow toward him, while Jayson did the same, a stream of fire coursing from him. They met in the middle, exploding in a terrific burst of light and sound, as each tried to reach the other. Everyone else covered their ears and their heads, huddling together on the floor, as they prayed for Gordon to win.

Gordon never gave up. Jayson had trespassed, threatened Flowers, nearly raped Wisler, and could have fatally wounded Chase. The fire may have been coming from Jayson literally – but there was a bigger fire in Gordon.

Clenching his teeth, he pushed and pushed and pushed, harder and harder, until his ice-stream got closer and closer to Jayson’s hands. He screamed out as he gave one final thrust – enough to hit Jayson and freeze his hands over.

The National fell backward, shocked. Gordon didn’t stop, once again covering him in solid ice from head to toe. Jayson stopped moving as the ice-prison got thicker and thicker.

“Gordon,” Chase yelped from the floor nearby. 

Gordon looked down to him, stopping the ice stream. He caught his breath. “Chase,” he said heavily, going to him and carefully helping him up. 

Chase motioned to the others to get up as well. “Let’s get him out of here,” he said, pointing to the ice capsule on the floor. They each did their best to not cut themselves on shards as they carefully picked up the chunk containing Jayson and went outside with it. Dumping it out onto the field, they each high-fived and hugged each other, taking one last glance behind them as they left together.

 

“Chase,” Gordon said to Chase, taking him by the arm and facing him once they were back in the clubhouse. “I just want to say straight up – I’m sorry.” Without his gloves, he now wasn’t afraid of freezing Chase. And he didn’t.

“It’s okay,” Chase put in.

“I’m sorry for the way I treated you, shutting you out, not telling you anything.” He shrugged. “Now I can’t tell you how happy I am now that I can be up front.” Nothing could have wiped the smile off his face. 

Chase couldn’t help it either. “Gordon, I understand now,” he said. “You were afraid – of hurting me.”

“Yes,” Gordon agreed eagerly. He shook his head in wonder. “I had no idea what I was capable of. I always hated my power, but now – it saved you!”

Chase laughed happily. “It’s amazing,” he said. He grabbed Gordon’s hand. “And you’re the only person who could have done it.” He drew closer. “It’s – beautiful, actually.”

Gordon took a moment to take that fact in. He could barely believe it. He stood there, speechless, a look of wonder on his face, as Chase leaned forward and kissed him. 

Gordon was amazed. It was soft as before. He pulled back and blurted, “Love!”

“Huh?”

“Love is more powerful than fear - love is what lets me control it!” 

Chase laughed, squeezing Gordon tighter.

 

“You guys ready?”

“Yeah!”

Gordon Beckham stood in the middle of the empty parking lot – the former Atlanta-Fulton County Stadium. A few cars lingered at the edges. It was very late that night, and he, Chase, Flowers, Folty, and Wisler were gathered in the middle. 

Gordon gathered himself and stamped his foot on the ground. Instantly, ice swept and swirled across the pavement like a growing blanket. It shone in the moonlight as it covered everything beneath the Braves’ feet and glittered at the edges. The others watched in silent amazement and tried not to slip and fall. 

Chase stumbled but Gordon caught him. Chase smiled. “Whoa!”

“Careful there,” Gordon giggled back. “You ice skate before?”

“No!”

Gordon thought so. “First time for everything.”

Chase seemed to enjoy it as they slid across the parking lot, arm in arm, Gordon guiding him. The others laughed and laughed as they steadied each other as well.   
“What a relief after such a hot day,” Chase said, now starting to gain his balance on his own.

Gordon smiled. “I guess I’m…lucky, in a way,” he said. “I’ve never been bothered by it.”

Chase looked back at him, jealous. “And you thought there was nothing at all good about your power,” he said sarcastically.

Gordon laughed again. “Okay, I guess I did kind of overlook that,” he agreed. “But I don’t know if it was worth all those years of…hiding. Of pain.”

“It’s over,” Chase replied. “You’re free now. Look at us!” They slid around each other, Chase now able to skate on his own. He glided by Gordon, around him, spinning, until he almost lost his balance and Gordon reached out just in time. He caught him around the waist just as he was about to fall. 

Chase looked up at Gordon with wide eyes and smiled from underneath him. “Whew,” he said, out of breath. “Close one!”

Gordon smiled. “Yeah.” Hung up looking at Chase, Gordon let out a puff of air. He nodded. “You’re right.”

“I’m right?”

“Yeah, about me being free.” He steadied Chase a bit, though they were still leaned over each other like in a ballroom slow dance. “I had no idea I could ever feel like this.”

“I knew you could.”

Chase was the only thing in the world then. Gordon leaned forward and they kissed in the moonlight.

 

Months passed. The season ended and Gordon Beckham and Chase d’Arnaud went home together for the first time. Their new offseason home was in Chicago – where the cold weather and Gordon’s power went hand in hand.

Their backyard was huge – twenty acres. Gordon and Chase went ice-skating nearly every day until one day Gordon had another idea.

“Keep behind me,” Gordon said to him as they stood in the middle of the yard, which was already covered in a few inches of snow. 

Chase cocked his head to the side. “Okay,” he said, trusting him as he was accustomed to.

Gordon took a deep breath. He turned around. “Oh yeah,” he said, remembering. “Chase, this is for you.” He took his hand briefly before turning back around. Stomping a foot, ice covered the yard in a smooth sweep, emanating from where the two of them stood. Chase held his breath, watching in awe, as Gordon worked. 

Manipulating the ice, Gordon moved gracefully, raising his hands in a smooth motion. The floor beneath them felt more solid, like a real floor of a glass building. Then Gordon tensed his hands, bringing them palms-upward slowly, like he was lifting a great weight. Towers of ice shot up from the ground around the edges of the yard, forming tall, crystal walls, enclosing them in a castle of ice that grew taller, thicker, and wider. Snowflakes dotted the walls and sparkled all around them brighter and more magnificent than the stars of the sky and the lights of the city. Gordon raised his eyes and hands upward, where the walls of ice came together to form a roof of magnificent deep blue. Pointed at the top, Gordon relaxed his hands, bringing them down along with a gentle snowfall. 

He smiled back at Chase, who couldn’t move for his surprise. They stood in a castle, a literal castle, of pure ice right in their backyard. “And who could forget,” Gordon added with a motion of a finger. He looked up again, twirling his hands around each other as another floor formed above their heads about sixteen feet up. He motioned right to their side and a snowy staircase formed, flowing upward, amassing together as Gordon guided it smoothly. Going over to it, he put a foot on the first step, and it smoothed itself out into a pure stair of ice, the snow gliding off. 

Gordon held out a hand. Chase followed eagerly. Going up the stairs, they came up to another room of ice. 

“And now,” Gordon said, taking Chase by the arm, “a finishing touch.” He flicked a couple of fingers at the wall and a chunk of ice was blasted away. 

Before them, right out the new window, lay the entire city of Chicago as if it were being viewed from – well, a big palace. 

And it was as if Gordon had given it all to Chase. 

He yelped in joy, clapping Gordon around the shoulders and hanging onto him, laughing heartily. “Gordon,” he squealed, “you are the most amazing creature…I’ve ever seen!”

Gordon took him by the arm and brought him around to face him with a gentle smile. “And you’re the most amazing I’ve ever seen.” He glanced out at the city, then looked back at Chase. “Without you this wouldn’t have ever been possible.” 

Chase smiled, shaking his head. He held onto Gordon by the shoulder. Their foreheads met, rocking gently back and forth. “What I mean to say is, it’s beautiful,” Chase whispered. “Breathtaking.” 

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He took him around the neck and kissed him.


End file.
